


A Touch of Heaven

by azaleahs



Series: The College Years [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Choking, Degrading Language, Dirty Talk, F/M, Halloween Costumes, Lingerie, Mirror Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 03:37:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21190928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azaleahs/pseuds/azaleahs
Summary: When it comes down to deciding how to spend the night, Brooke just wants to go to the party. But after one look at her costume, Sweet Pea has other ideas.





	A Touch of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Southside Archive's Falloween event, Theme One: The Classics.

“Want to remind me why that skirt’s so short?”

From his spot against the bathroom’s doorframe, Sweet Pea can see Brooke roll her eyes. His girlfriend had taken over the bathroom in her shared apartment the second her roommates had headed out for the night, holing up in there for the past half hour. When he’d shown up tonight, it had been to Jughead warning him that she was probably going to take eight years to get ready. Now, as he looks at her bag of makeup products spilling across the counter, he’s pretty sure Jones wasn’t far off.

Any other weeknight, Sweet Pea would wonder what the actual hell she was doing. But tonight’s no ordinary night and he knows if he asks that particular question, she’ll probably lecture him or something.

October had rolled into their tiny college town a few weeks ago. It put a chill to the air and an orange tinge to the trees, causing cold drinks to be exchanged for warm ones and sweaters to be broken out of dressers. Brooke’s birthday had come and gone, leaving only the expectation of her favorite time of the year. When it came to holidays, she loved nothing more than Halloween. Scary movies, candy, costumes, the whole nine yards.

She’d busted out her fuzzy socks and ghost print pajamas a whole week before October had even started, a little too thrilled to begin the fun. The past two date nights had involved cuddling together on his bed, Netflix playing whatever scary movie piqued her interest. She’d even dragged him and Fangs to the pumpkin patch last weekend, although that had pretty much ensued in her and Fangs picking out ugly pumpkins and saying they looked like each other.

It’s always confused Sweet Pea a little, the way she gets excited about Halloween, but the childlike wonder in her eyes at the spookiest time of the year is about as endearing as it can get.

Technically, Halloween isn’t for another two days, but the string of fraternity hosted parties are starting a little early. Ever the social butterfly, Brooke had managed to get the details on all the parties happening on and off campus, roping in Sweet Pea and Fangs into attending with her. She’d caught them after class, clapping her hands together excitedly, already brimming with ideas for costumes.

Fangs had been quick to agree, needing not much more than the prospect of hot people and alcohol. All it had taken for Sweet Pea was her looking up at him through her lashes, blue eyes sparkling as she pouted at him.

Fangs had called him whipped. That’s probably true, considering he’s dressed in a costume (although Brooke says it’s not much of one — he and Fangs were going as 50’s greasers), waiting for her to finish up.

Together since high school, Sweet Pea’s not unaccustomed to the amount of time she dedicates to Halloween preparation. He’s also not unaccustomed to the way that she plays corny Halloween music from the tiny speakers on her phone, singing along even though she’s terribly off-key.

However, what he’s not used to is the way she insists on standing there in a tiny ass skirt that barely seems to cover anything and ignore him while doing so. Sweet Pea’s pretty sure he’s dating a goddamn tease and he’s wondering what deity he pissed off in a former life to deserve this.

When she’d originally pitched her costume idea to him, he hadn’t thought anything of it. Angels were generic enough, something almost as overdone as devils and Harley Quinn. However, that’d been before he’d seen what she had purchased for the night.

While she’s an angel in theory, complete with wings and a halo headband set off to the side for final touches, that’s where the innocence stops. The outfit she’s donned for the night barely covers her. It’s anything but angelic. For starters, the top’s just some sort of bodysuit, panels of white lace and see-through fabric. It’s not too different from things he’s torn off of her in the past.

She’s got a white skirt on over that, a frilly little tutu that’s on the verge of flashing what’s underneath. It sways against her upper thighs as she subtly bounces to the song she’s listening to, keeping his eyes glued there. Paired with lacy thigh highs and heels, Sweet Pea’s pretty much been fucked since he’d caught sight of her.

Glancing back at him, she pauses in her rendition of some song from some cartoon movie she’s made him watch like three times in the past month. Her hair’s loose, golden tresses swinging over her shoulder as she turns her head. Catching him eyeing the hem of her skirt, she lets out a laugh.

“It’s a skirt, Sweets,” she deadpans, turning back to her reflection. Brushing the hair out of her face, she adds, “the purpose of a skirt is to be short.”

“I think its purpose is to have us skip the party and make me drag you to bed, instead,” he replies offhandedly, a mischievous grin spreading across his face when he sees her cheeks heat up in the mirror.

Shaking her head, she busies herself with uncapping a pink tube. “No one’s skipping the party.”

“I think I could convince you.” His tone’s cocky and he wears an expression to match, teeth gleaming in the low light as he grins at her.

“I’m going, you’re going, no beds involved whatsoever,” Brooke retorts, before dragging a wand across her lips. It leaves them shiny and glossy. When she smacks them together in the mirror, it only fuels Sweet Pea’s desire to just grab her and kiss her, even though her lips will more than likely make his own a sticky mess.

“I’m just saying, I think it’d be in our best interest if we stayed here. Jones and Andrews already left, we’d have the whole place to ourselves tonight,” Sweet Pea tells her, adjusting his position against the doorjamb. His eyes flicker down to the hem of her skirt, dangerously close to the subtle curve of her ass. He licks his lips, teeth tugging at his bottom lip. “You, me, and that skirt.”

“We’re meeting Fangs there,” Brooke points out, as if that’s a definitive enough answer to give him.

It’s not.

“And?”

“He’s going to be waiting for us.”

“He’ll live.” It wouldn’t be the first time they ditched Fangs to do something a little more…rated R.

“Sweet Pea.”

“Brooke.”

She groans in annoyance. Turning to look at him again with narrowed eyes, Brooke points her lip gloss tube at him. “Look, I didn’t spend all this time getting ready just stay home with you, babe.”

Cocking his head at her, Sweet Pea gives her a cheeky smile. “You mean that little number isn’t all for me, princess?”

Her cheeks pink, but her expression doesn’t waver into embarrassment. “If you keep trying to get out of this party, you’ll be lucky if I even consider letting you see me out of this.”

She grins when Sweet Pea rolls his eyes in response. Brooke turns back to the sink counter again, lightly cursing under her breath when the tube in her hands slips through her fingers. It clatters noisily to the ground, bouncing along the tile.

She bends over to retrieve it, clearly not aware of the show she’s giving her boyfriend. Sweet Pea’s eyes go wide as the bent angle causes her skirt to rise even more, flashing the bottom of her bodysuit and a good amount of her ass. The further she bends, the more of her skin and the white lace is revealed. The skintight fabric clings to every inch of her in a way, stretching across the skin in a way that makes him swallow thickly. He shifts in his stance, pants starting to tighten.

Yeah, it’s safe to say he done for. Lip quirking up at the corners in a smirk, Sweet Pea makes a choice that he hopes will change the course of the night.

Brooke looks in the mirror as she straightens up, setting down her lip gloss. When she focuses on her reflection, she jumps out of her skin when she sees Sweet Pea directly behind her. He’d moved silently, lithely, stopping just behind her. Strong hands are warm against her sides, steady as they settle on her hips.

“Fucking hell,” she swears. She glances over her shoulder to look at him, her lips pursed in annoyance. “A little warning would have been nice.”

Sweet Pea ignores that, muscular arms wrapping around her waist and gently tugging her back against his frame. He’s quick to duck his head down to her neck, lips finding purchase on the skin of her jugular. Her ass is level with the front of his pants and there’s a small, sharp intake of breath when she feels a hard bulge behind her.

His lips are soft against her neck, alternating between pressing innocent kisses and sucking at the skin. Her pulse thrums under his ministrations, quickening with each of his movements. She wants to tell him to knock it off, but her biting tone falls silent on her lips as he sucks harshly on the skin just below the curve of her jaw. He nips at the area with his teeth, too, causing a hitched breath to slip past her lips.

“Sweet Pea,” she mumbles. “We … we’re going to be late.”

He chuckles against her neck, settling his head at the juncture of her shoulder. Another featherlight kiss is pressed to her skin. His mouths hot, tracing a fever along her skin in the same manner that his hands on her waist do. The fabric of her bodysuit isn’t thin all over, but the see-through panels on her sides make it too easy for him to leave a sense of burning in his hands’ wake.

Lowly, he replies. “We could always have our own party here.”

“But,” she starts, a list formed in her head of every reason why they can’t.

All of her reasons escape her as one hand drifts upwards, cupping her breast without preamble. His fingers drag across the lace, fingers splayed across her chest as they seek out the nipple underneath. It’s fast to stiffen under the pinch of his fingers, causing her teeth to dig into her bottom lip. Brooke swallows thickly, trying in vain to hold onto the idea that they’re supposed to go out tonight.

When she looks up into the mirror, her reflection causes her to bite down harder onto her lip, just on the verge of drawing blood. Sweet Pea’s not doing much, simply playing with her chest. He’s returned to kissing at her neck, his other hand slipping off her hip so that both breasts can receive attention. It’s a simple picture splayed out in front of her on the bathroom mirror, but for some reason, the sight of it alone added to the feelings he’s causing to build up in her makes her thighs press together.

A moan slips from her lips.

The choice is made then. They’re not going to that party anytime soon.

Instead, she submits to what’s happening, leaning back further into his chest with a sigh. A content sound passes her lips and her eyes flutter closed for a moment when he rolls her nipples, both pebbled and painfully hard under his touch.

When her eyes open again, she finds herself drawn to the sight presented to her once again, though more so focused on the man behind her.

Behind her, he’s dressed in his usual attire of dark jeans, a t-shirt, and worn leather jacket, dog tags dangling around his neck. The black ink of his serpent tattoo stands out vibrantly against his tanned skin. Compared to her, dressed all in white like a virginal bride with a touch too much highlighter, he looks dangerous. She wonders briefly if this is how people back home had viewed them when they first together. A gang member and the innocent little Northsider people had thought her to be.

And maybe it was true, she had been more innocent than him once upon a time, in more ways than one. But he’d corrupted her in all the best ways and it’s for that reason alone that her body’s quick to respond to him, dampness beginning to start between her thighs. She feels like she should be embarrassed by how quick he’s able to flip the switch in her, but then again, she’s always had a thing for him for kissing along her neck.

Sweet Pea leaves angry splotches of red in his wake, some patches darker than others. They stand out vibrantly against her skin and he gives each one a soft peck, clearly proud of his work.

He glances up in the mirror, catching sight of her appraising them in the reflection. A grin tinged with something darker spreads across his face. “You watching us, angel?”

The nickname falls from his lips easily and under any circumstances, Brooke would have told him that was cheesy given her costume. But as one of his hands slips off her breast to cup under her chin, making sure she remains facing the mirror, any response she could have thought of escapes her.

Instead, a near-silent, _“maybe,”_ answers his question.

“Do you like the thought of watching us?” he asks, chuckling. His tone is teasing, and he adjusts his stance to press his lips against the shell of her ear. “Does my girl want to see when I make her cum?”

It’s something they’ve never talked about or come close to doing. Fucking in front of a mirror, that is. But something about the idea of watching them in the mirror, seeing everything that she’s never seen before is intriguing.

The dampness between her legs intensifies.

Brooke nods, teeth gnawing at her strawberry flavored lips. Another chuckle leaves him, his chest vibrating behind her. His thumb traces her jawline lightly, kissing the opposite side of her face.

“You might be dressed like an angel tonight,” he starts, making eye contact with her in the mirror. “But you’re really just a dirty little slut, aren’t you, Brooke?”

Shyly, she nods again.

He squeezes her breast again before appraising the mirror in front of him. It stops just before the sink counter, giving them a sight that ends at their waists, making it impossible to see anything underneath.

That won’t work. Sweet Pea wants her to see everything, growing harder at the thought of her watching them doing something absolutely sinful. She’s patient in his arms, although he can hear the shakiness of her breath as she waits for him to make the next move.

His familiarity with her apartment comes in handy then, eyes catching sight of the door behind him in the mirror. Pivoting, he brings Brooke with him as he turns around, now facing the exit of the bathroom. His hands leave her, moving behind him to rest against the sink counter as he leans back into it.

Brooke’s left standing facing the doorway, nipples hard and slick at the apex of her thighs. If anything, she’s confused. She turns in her heels, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Pea?”

He nods at the door. “Close that and take your heels off, angel.”

She eyes him for a moment, before doing as asked. Kicking off her heels, she nudges them into the corner as she pads across the tiled floor. He watches her, gaze more than hungry as she follows through with shutting the door.

Brooke’s left to gaze at herself in the full-length mirror that’s hung on the door and everything makes sense. In this mirror, she’d be able to see everything, watch herself fall apart. Blue eyes sparkling with excitement, she smiles as she turns back to Sweet Pea.

He’s discarded his Serpent jacket, setting it down on the closed lid of the toilet. Curling his index finger at her, he beckons her forward with a deliciously sinful expression.

Her pace is fast as she crosses the small space. He reaches out to her just before she’s in front of him, a hand curling around her wrist to tug her into him. Brooke giggles when he pulls her in for a kiss.

Sweet Pea was right to assume her lip gloss would make his own a mess. Shiny and smooth, he can feel the newfound stickiness left behind on his own. He can taste strawberries and something even sweeter that he can’t pin down. It’s intoxicating and erotic to him in the heat of the moment.

He kisses her hungrily, deeper, taking what she gives him with reckless abandon.

They stay like this for a while, her between his legs and his hands keeping her hips flush to his. Her hands cupping the back of his neck, pulling his face impossibly close. His hands roving between hips and ass, squeezing harshly to get her to gasp into his mouth. Hips grinding against each other with fervor. Passion and heat, a clash of tongues and teeth as the kiss turns more and more intimate.

When he pulls away from her, Brooke lets loose a whine that makes her blush after the fact. Sweet Pea watches her thoughtfully, a ghost of a smile on his lips, now sticky from her gloss.

His hands rise back up to the top of her hips, catching his thumbs under the waistband of her skirt. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, Sweet Pea lowers her skirt, pulling it past her ass and partway down her thighs until it can fall to the ground on its own accord. The flimsy material puddles around Brooke’s feet. She steps out of it, kicking it aside with her socked foot.

His gaze flicks downward, a chuckle escaping him when he eyes the bottom of her bodysuit. A hand drifts downward, fingers drifting over what covering her pussy. The fabric’s damp and when his eyes snap up to meet hers, Brooke’s cheeks are pink.

“You’re already wet and I’ve barely touched you,” he notes. Another drag of his fingers, this time ending in one fingertip slipping just under the fabric. Sweet Pea grins when his skin meets more of hers. “No panties, baby?”

He gets a shrug that’s offset by the slight bashful curve of her lips. “Technically the bodysuit _is_ underwear — found it in the lingerie section.”

“What, so you were going to go out tonight in lingerie and a skirt?” His tone is amused, watching her with a boyish grin. He cocks his head. “Planning on seducing me later or something?”

She huffs, her hands sliding down his shoulders to rest on his biceps. “It’s not like we’d be the first to fuck at a college party, babe.”

“You seemed really against us doing anything earlier.”

“That’s because I actually wanted to _go_ to the party.”

Sweet Pea gives her a teasing expression, before pressing two fingers against her, right where he knows her clit is. Brooke’s grip on his upper arms tightens, nails digging into the skin. He rubs her clit for a few moments, coaxing a stuttered gasp from the girl in his arms.

“And what about now? Do you still want to go to the party?”

The feeling of wet lace and hot fingers against her sensitive skin makes her shake her head. “Fuck, no.”

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs. A kiss is pressed under her jawline, right back on that spot that’s already blossomed a red hickey.

He’s silent as he turns her around and settling her ass back against his erection. A hand drifts up her front, taking a moment to tug at the neckline of her outfit until her breasts are exposed.

Lowly, he murmurs, “I fucking love these tits.”

Sweet Pea rolls a nipple between his fingers absentmindedly for a moment before his hand continues to drift up. The fingers catch just under her jaw, the palm of his hand against her throat. His grip is loose, but he feels the way her pulse flutters under his touch.

Her breath hitches when he gives her throat a barely-there squeeze.

In the mirror, he holds her chin to make sure she’s looking forward, eyes trained on the sight of them before her. She’s a vision in the mirror, all flushed cheeks and peaked nipples and wet lace.

“I want you to keep your eyes open,” he murmurs into her ear, teeth dragging against the shell. “I want you to watch me fuck you with my fingers until you cum, baby. Can you do that for me? Can you watch yourself?”

“Touch me,” she whimpers, keening when his other hand returns to her covered pussy. Nodding against, him she adds, “please.”

Sweet Pea rubs slow circles on her clit over the lace. She mewls at the attention. Brooke’s eyes find her own in the mirror. She looks different to herself, not having seen her aroused state like this before. The blue in her irises has taken on a darker shade, her lips parted and just a touch swollen.

Her breath and hips stutter as his rubs become more forceful, dragging the wet fabric over her clit. Then he’s pushing it aside, baring her slick slit to the cool air of the bathroom. Skilled fingers find her bundle of nerves, giving it a pinch that makes Brooke choke on a moan.

His hands are all calluses and thick fingers and the cool metal of his rings is a stark contrast to her warmed skin. Sweet Pea slips his fingers through her folds, collecting the moisture that’s accumulated there until they’re slick and shiny with her desire.

Her eyes drift from her face, watching his hands intently.

The reflection is erotic in a way. She feels dirty watching this, even though she’s the one it’s happening to. It’s not like she’s watching someone else. But there’s a thrill that runs through her when her eyes trace the way Sweet Pea runs a finger down her slit. She can see everything, the way her hips follow his hand if he draws his touch away from her and the way they jolt in place when he dips into her.

A drawn-out moan is pulled from her when Sweet Pea slips a finger inside her. Her walls flutter around the slick digit, quick to clamp down around it. He’s slow to start. It’s torturous, both feeling and watching his finger thrust in and out of her at a snail’s pace.

Brooke shifts backward, leaning into him further. He’s all around her and his name falls from her lips in a near-silent whisper when his pace picks up. A second finger joins the first, thrusting into her and spreading her father apart.

There’s a wet sound that comes from his fingers thrusting in and out of her, resounding through the room to remind her just how wet he gets her. His fingers curl, brushing up against something inside her that leaves her choking on a moan.

“Fucking hell.” The sound leaves her between gritted teeth, a soft hiss. “Sweet Pea.”

Another squeeze to her throat, still subtle, but more than the last. She moans and his fingers curl again, and she can feel him smirking against her shoulder. Sweet Pea’s lips kiss the burning skin and she feels like she’s on the edge of something blissful and pure. A coil tightening in her stomach, a burning heat threatening to snap and spill.

She’s dressed like the angel, but it’s his touch that feels heaven-sent.

When he glances at the mirror to make sure she’s still following his command, he’s pleased with what he sees. Brooke’s positively hypnotized with the sight before her. Her eyes are cast downwards ever so slightly, watching intently as his thick fingers plunge in and out of her. They squeeze shut for a moment when his thumb swipes against her clit, but Brooke doesn’t stop watching for long.

He grins, a sultry smile on his lips. Whispering into her ear, he tells her, “Just look at yourself, baby, taking my fingers so well.”

Sweet Pea doesn’t need to tell her twice.

Her focus hasn’t left the sinful sight, watching him fuck her pussy with his hand and bringing her close with just two digits. She mewls. He quickens his pace, fingers thrusting and curling, spreading her walls and flicking her clit. Brooke practically pulsates around his fingers and she swears her legs are growing weak as the distance between her and the end becomes smaller and smaller.

The sounds she makes start to multiply, closer together as she grows closer to release. Mewls and moans, strings of incoherent phrases. Really, the only thing she manages to get out that makes any sense is his name.

_“Sweet Pea.”_ It’s a ragged moan that escapes her, eyes slipping closed as his name gets choked up in the middle.

“You’re so close, aren’t you? Wanna cum?” His thumb finds a home against her clit. Rubbing and tapping, all movements in tandem with the fingers inside her. She’s wet and warm and loud and he wants to watch her cum.

He wants _her_ to watch herself cum.

By now, her eyes are clamped shut and that just won’t do. Her head’s still upright, the fingers around her throat being the only thing keeping from it lolling back onto his shoulder.

Sweet Pea drags his fingers from her, causing her to whine. His fingers find her bundle of nerves, flicking it just like his thumb had before giving it a pinch. Brooke jerks in his arms from the sudden change.

“Be a good girl and open your eyes,” he tells her. His tone is low, demanding, and it shoots straight to her core. “You look so pretty when you cum, I want you to see it. Open your eyes and then you can cum.”

His fingers slip back inside her, back to curling against the patch that makes her thrum to life in his arms. Weakly, she tries to force her eyes open. It’s at that moment, when Sweet Pea sees the flash of blue eyes in the mirror, that he works to send her over the edge.

_“Let go, angel.”_

With his thumb on her clit, fingers scissoring apart inside her, and lips sucking just below her jaw, her brain practically short circuits. Something inside her tightens and then breaks. She thrashes against him, a mix of a choked sob and a cry leaving her parted lips. Her walls flutter incessantly against his fingers as he continues thrusting, even well after the coil inside her snaps.

To be fair, she doesn’t actually see anything. Brooke’s eyes don’t stay open for long amidst the pleasure that overtakes her. It’s like a wave crashing over a shore, drowning her instantly.

Her eyes squeeze shut again and for the briefest of moments, she swears everything goes white. All she can recognize is the feeling between her legs and the pounding of her heart. Stars bursts across the canvas of her closed lids, illuminating the blackness.

Sweet Pea works her through it, the sucking on her neck turning to soft kisses. The hand around her throat slips down, catching her around the waist. She’s nearly boneless against him, her weight slumping back into him as her knees threaten to give out.

He laughs when he hears her still making mumbled sounds, eyes eventually fluttering open when he slips his fingers from her.

“That good, baby?”

She nods softly, trying to regain her coherence and her footing. Slightly slurred, she answers, “so good.”

He kisses her cheek, dark eyes flickering down to his coated fingers.

Sweet Pea drags his slick fingers up to her face, connected by a string of her arousal that makes her laugh nervously. He doesn’t need to direct her as he taps them to her lips, a silent order that she gives into. Her lips part, sucking his fingers into her mouth. Her tongue laves around them, cleaning off every drop of her until all she can taste is herself.

Though it’s not the first time Sweet Pea’s seen her do this, he can’t help but groan. “Fucking hell, baby.”

A wicked grin spreads across his lips when she releases his fingers, eyes impossibly dark with lust. Before she can even blink, he’s spun them around, pressing her back against the counter. His hands are hot against her skin as they drift over the back of her thighs before gripping tightly. He hoists her up onto the counter, her long-forgotten makeup scattering into the sink basin or onto the floor.

A rough, bruising kiss is pressed to her lips, stifling the squeal of surprise that tries to leave her. Sweet Pea kisses her harshly, a display of dominance and a clash of tongues and teeth as one arm tightens around her waist. Brooke’s dragged to the edge of the counter and her soaked core pressed against his covered cock.

His free hand fumbles with his belt buckle blindly. He continues to kiss her while he works it open and he practically yanks his zipper off with how roughly he tugs it down. Hand slipping between him and his girl, he pulls back a bit to push his pants and underwear down far enough for his cock to slip free.

His hand fists around his cock, giving it a few good jerks under Brooke’s lustful gaze. “I can’t wait to feel that pussy, always so fucking tight for me.”

She licks her lips at the sight, his hard length throbbing and leaking already. Her hands reach out, grabbing the tags dangling around his neck and tugging him back to her for another kiss. Her hips grind against his in wanting when his arms loop around her.

Brooke slips her hand between them, checking that her costume is still pulled to the side before wrapping her fingers around his cock. Sweet Pea groans at the touch, a sound that only intensifies when she rubs the tip between her folds.

Lined up at her entrance, Sweet Pea pushes his hips forward. Brooke wraps her legs around his hips, adjusting the angle, and she cries out at the sensation. She’s wet and warm around him and her head falls to his shoulder.

Sweet Pea doesn’t waste any time, beginning to thrust into her at a steady rhythm. He goes fast and deep, as deep as he can go, and it has Brooke fisting his shirt between her fingers, a babbling mess from his attention. His name falls from her lips like a prayer.

It’s close after her first orgasm, almost too close, but that doesn’t stop that familiar feeling from burning inside her again. Brooke can feel the wave building up, preparing a chaotic crescendo and she can’t help but meet his thrusts with jolts of her hips to bring herself closer to it.

She wants to feel it, wants to feel him, wants to feel _everything._

“Sweets,” she cries, pressing herself so tightly against him that it becomes hard to see where he ends and where she begins. Her nipples catch on the fabric of his shirt, only adding to the pleasure shooting to her core. “Oh fuck, oh fuck.”

The sentiments falling from Sweet Pea’s lips aren’t too different. “That’s it, Brooke. Fuck … feel so good around me, baby.”

As his thrusts become rougher and sloppier, Brooke takes to sucking on his neck, just below his tattoo. Kisses litter there and across every visible patch of skin.

She’s close, so close that she can almost taste it. And maybe that’s why Brooke finds herself forcing her eyes open again, hoping to catch one last glimpse of herself orgasming. In the mirror, she locks eyes with herself. Her gaze is bleary, skin slick with sweat, lips swollen. She looks obscene as she jolts with each of his thrusts and her lips part to let slip a moan.

It’s that image that sends her, coupled with the feeling of one particularly rough thrust. She cries out, a strangled little sound as she tenses and then falls limp against Sweet Pea.

Euphoria clouds every ounce of her being, the only thing she can grab onto and make sense of at the moment. Tears pool in her eyes at the intensity, threatening to fall. It ripples through her, fast and determined, a brilliant crescendo crashing down and setting off sparks.

“That’s it, Brooke,” he mumbles to her, voice tense with his burgeoning orgasm. Swearing, he adds, “so fucking good for me.”

Brooke continues rocking into him through all of this. She meets each of his thrusts, a tired smile brightening her face when she hears the sounds he makes in response. Whether it’s to string her orgasm out as long as possible or to bring Sweet Pea to a climax, she doesn’t know. Still, it works for both. She basks in her afterglow as something inside Sweet Pea tightens, leaving him to release with a shout.

Thick ropes spill into her, impossibly warm and only adding to the wet sound that his thrusting cock makes inside her. Just as she worked herself through her orgasm, he does the same. She slumps against him, breathless and utterly spent, letting out shaky gasps as she nuzzles into his neck. The grip she has on his shirt slackens, but she doesn’t let him go, keeping him close as he slips out of her.

Everything about her feels as light as air and her clit still manages to pulsate in the aftermath, tender and swollen. Sweet Pea’s pressing kisses into her hair, sweet nothings mumbled in between.

“I love you,” she rasps against his skin, all at once shattered and whole. Brooke pulls her head from his shoulder and her fingers are clumsy as they reach for his face. “I love you so fucking much.”

Brooke pulls him in for a kiss, lips slotting with his perfectly. The moment feels nothing short of divine absolution, hot and sultry yet sweet and angelic all at once. It’s perfect to her, _he’s_ perfect and he’s here and he’s holding her and there’s nothing more that she could ask for.

When they part, his forehead rests against hers, smile lazy and eyes shining with adoration. “I love you, too.”

Her heart swells at the sound of his hushed words. Their grips tighten on each other as their lips find each other again. Brooke feels at home against him, giggling against his lips, bliss tingling on every nerve. In each other’s arms, they’ve found heaven, a small slice of perfection together in this one moment.

And to them, it’s everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Be sure to drop me a comment if you liked this, I love hearing feedback from readers!!


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